Don't Kill the Messenger
by 13th Key
Summary: Starrk, a local florist, receives a client that wants to anonymously send flowers to a woman to express his feelings. Naturally, he unwittingly gets caught in the middle.


Starrk never was one for complications. He liked his nice, quiet life in his pleasant, sleepy town. It's why he became a florist. He found making arrangements soothing and not at all strenuous, which was absolutely perfect. The only potential time that his petite boutique was ever busy was around Valentine's Day and the two weeks leading up to any high school dance. However, recently things got complicated. It started roughly three months ago when a blue haired man with a bad attitude came into the shop.

"Hey," Starrk said with a small, relaxed wave. "What can I help you with today, sir?"

"I need an arrangement made."

"Alright. What size? Small, medium, or large?" Starrk said as he took out a small notebook and paper.

"Um, medium I guess."

"Good choice, any particular flowers you want in the arrangement?"

"Yeah, can it have some roses in it?" the man said as the faintest blush came over his face.

"Ah, sending it to someone special?" Starrk said as he raised an eyebrow. He ripped out a sheet of paper and passed it to the man. "This will be the cost of your order. Cash or credit?"

He looked at it, and the man's fist clenched around the paper. "You have got to be shitting me. There's no fuckin' way a bunch of flowers can cost this much."

Starrk sighed. "You want the arrangement or not? You can go to any other florist in town. You'll find that I have the most competitive rates."

"Fine," the man said as he took out his credit card.

"And one last thing before you swipe, I'll need the address that this is being sent to, the recipient's name and yours, and your phone number."

"It's for a chick named Tia Halibel. I'm Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez, but could you not write it on the card?" he asked as his blush fully bloomed on his face.

"No problem."

* * *

About a week later, Starrk finally completed the order, wrote a note in it to make seem more romantic while keeping out the sender's name, and delivered it. The address was a small apartment on the second floor of its complex just outside of the downtown area. He walked up the outside stairs and knocked on the door… No answer came. He then set the arrangement down, shrugged, and walked back to the shop's van. A few days later the man, Grimmjow, came in and ordered another bouquet. He seemed less… unpleasant.

" _That lady must've liked them,"_ Starrk thought with a smile as he wrote down the flower's he'd use on the next arrangement as Grimmjow walked out. A week later, after completing the arrangement and writing the note, Starrk went to the apartment complex, walked up the stairs to the second floor. Once again he knocked on the door and got no response. And again he left the floors in front of the door. The pattern repeated for several weeks. During that period, Starrk started to see a new customer; a tall blond woman with emerald eyes that could pierce the soul and a bewitching smile. Having a regular was a rarity, but without fail they always came in once a week on Thursday at precisely twelve thirty-seven.

Usually she would buy small flowers, a container, tools, or small amounts of fertilizer. She would come just as he was getting off of his lunch break, and would start working on the bouquet for Grimmjow. Often she would stay and watch for a while as he picked out the flowers and started making the arrangement. She asked about what went into the arrangements, and what he thought about when making them, and would even ask some questions about himself. He told her about his methodology with his arrangements, and the flowers he liked best. She never stayed long enough for him to ask any questions, but it was a nice routine and after she left, her smile would stay in his mind for the rest of the day. It was a pleasant acquaintanceship. And as time went on, he found himself writing the romantic little notes that he included in the arrangements based off of her. Starrk had developed a crush on her.

She would soon occupy his thoughts longer and longer after she left. When she would stride in, his heart would flutter, and his stomach would twist into knots as her eyes followed his hands as he constructed the next bouquet. He started noticing smaller things, like how she would grin with amusement whenever he had to redo a part or when he told her stories of men who would enter the shop to purchase flowers and act as if buying flowers was equivalent to breaking a terrible taboo. Or how she would sigh whenever he used a flower that on second thought didn't quite go with the others.

* * *

It was after three months that Starrk's routine became disrupted. He had just arrived at the door of the apartment only to find the woman from the shop in the doorway.

"Did you know that I actually hate flowers?" she asked. "I hardly have the room in my apartment for them, or the time to take care of them."

"I'm sorry to hear about that," Starrk said. "But I can't help it."

"I know, you're just doing your job," she said as she walked up to him, and took the bouquet. "Still, I really wish that Grimmjow would just take the hint and stop wasting his money on this."

"Why not just tell him that?"

"Because for as much trouble as the flowers are," she began, her smile turning into a smirk, "I love the amount of effort you put into the notes. At first they were impersonal, but now they're like little showers of flattery."

Starrk flushed scarlet. "It's just something I add on behalf of the sender. It really means nothing."

Her smile grew and she walked closer to him, the scent of the bouquet overpowering his senses. "'Eyes like forests,' 'hair that queens would kill for,' 'saccharine lips too sweet to be candy.' Need I go on? Those don't sound like compliments meant to be forgotten," she said as she came even closer, standing inches away from him causing his face to go crimson. "Now tell me if I'm wrong, but, I think you're smitten with me. Head. Over. Heels," she said as she poked his chest with her final words, her face dangerously close to his own.

"I-I-I um… yeah," he sputtered out.

"Good, now if you're even half as crazy about me as I am for you, you'll text me sometime to get some coffee," she said, stuck a piece of paper in his hand, and walked back into the apartment. It was only when Starrk heard the door close that his blush began to recede, and that he could start to think clearly again.

"That Grimmjow guy is going to murder me when he finds out about this."


End file.
